We slept in, then I made a huge brunch, which I plan to do more often now that I know how much she likes breakfast foods. After a few hours of work—which we took out to the terrace—we took a walk, sampling soccas from two street vendors we came across.
We stopped by a café Evangeline spotted on our way into Monaco and sampled the fruit tarts and macarons. Now, as the sun sets, we’re standing on the terrace at the Oceanographic Museum, taking in the sweeping views of the water and beyond.
“That’s France,” I point out, hugging Evangeline to my chest. “And farther out, over there, you can see Italy.”
“This is incredible,” she breathes, tipping her head back to look up at me.
I hum. “Second prettiest thing I’ve seen all day.” With a kiss to the tip of her nose, I ask, “Are you sure you’re okay staying in tonight?”
It would be easy to find a table on our way home and enjoy dinner out. But after all the upheaval of last night, I thought a quieter night in would provide a nice balance to the day.
“Dinner at home sounds perfect.”
Home. Pride surges through me at her casual slip-up. It lights me up inside, knowing she already feels comfortable in my space.
“Can we eat later, though? I’m still stuffed from all the soccas,” she proclaims, rubbing one hand over her flat stomach. “Plus, I was hoping to sneak in an impromptu live tonight.”
That, I knew, thanks to the electronic newsletter she sent out this morning.
“Of course,” I assure her. I have work to catch up on as well. “How about nine?”
“That’s fine,” she confirms, a dreamy note to her tone. “Can we stay up here a few more minutes? I can’t get enough of this view.”
I survey her. It’s like she took the words right out of my mouth.
After a little while, we walk home hand in hand, mostly quiet as we wind through the streets of Monaco. The nearly set sun casts a rosy glow against my building when we turn a corner and it comes into view.
Which reminds me…
I squeeze her hand and stop. “There’s something I need to tell you about tomorrow.”
She peers up at me, nose scrunched. “Okay.”
“It’s not a big deal, and I don’t want you to do anything or give it another thought after this conversation.”
Brows practically in her hairline, she scans my face.
I drop my head and focus on my feet, sighing.
“What is it?” she asks, her tone full of concern.
Sheepishly, I meet her eye.
“Tomorrow is my birthday.”
Her mouth drops open, and she swings one manicured hand, smacking my chest. “And you’re just now telling me?”
I shake my head and sigh. “I honestly didn’t even want to tell you. But my doorman has the memory of an elephant, and I didn’t want you to find out when he inevitably mentions it.”
“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” she asks, the question laced with a hint of hurt.
I give her a pointed look, but as I take in her crestfallen expression, I temper my defenses.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you specifically. It’s not a big deal to me,” I reassure her. “Tomorrow is just another day. Plus, it means I’m officially another year older than you…”
She presses her lips together, suppressing a giggle. “Okay, fair. But it’s not just another day. You deserve to be celebrated.”
I let out a breath. She’s sweet, but I don’t want nor need the attention.
